


Balancing the Scales

by Bralatine



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: (maybe), Adi Gallia (mentioned) - Freeform, Bo-Katan Kryze (mentioned) - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Canon Dialogue, Dark Obi-Wan Kenobi, Darth Maul Needs a Hug, Episode: s05e16 The Lawless, F/M, Gen, Korkie Kryze (mentioned) - Freeform, Mandalorian History (Star Wars), Mind Games, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obitine Prompt-of-the-Month, Planet Mandalore (Star Wars), Qui-Gon Jinn (mentioned) - Freeform, Satine Kryze Needs a Hug, Sith Obi-Wan Kenobi, The Darksaber, The Jedi, The Sith, keldabe kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27800857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bralatine/pseuds/Bralatine
Summary: Obi-Wan should have known it was a trap, but after Satine's desperate plea for help, it probably wouldn't have made any difference even if he had.Now, caught in the sick game of a Sith he'd hoped never to see again, Obi-Wan's deepest secrets are laid bare and he finds he has everything to lose."The game is this: the players are three. Balance the scales and two shall be free."Written for the Obitine Prompt-of-the-Month Challenge for November: Extended/Deleted Scene
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Darth Maul, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Satine Kryze & Darth Maul
Comments: 11
Kudos: 97





	Balancing the Scales

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Obitine Prompt-of-the-Month Challenge for November: Extended/Deleted Scene
> 
> This fic grew out of several desires:  
> 1) to know what happens before the throne room scene in "The Lawless," which seems to be already in motion when we come in.  
> 2) to explore what is behind Maul's line to Obi-Wan: "You should have chosen the Dark side."  
> 3) to give Satine whatever agency is possible in what is probably the worst and most stereotypical example of fridging a female character.  
> 4) to explore similar themes in "Kenobi's Shadow," the short story in The Clone Wars: Stories of Light and Dark anthology, which had a fantastic premise but faltered in execution.
> 
> Thanks to my beloved friends on the Obitine server. You put up with my incessant questions (and unrelenting need for angst) as I reason my way through monstrous fics like this. You're the best!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please review, as they are cherished beyond belief! -Jess

Consciousness was an unwelcome friend, and the first thing Obi-Wan Kenobi knew was the pounding inside his skull. Then there was the sickening vibration of an airspeeder—he was lying in the mostly covered rear storage compartment, he realized—a tangle of bedraggled blonde hair tickling his nose, and through the narrow opening that looked into the speeder's cabin, the back of a horned head he had hoped never to see again.

The events of the last few minutes came flooding back— _Satine. The Twilight . . . Maul_ —and he grimaced in pain and horror. Reflexively, he pressed a hand to his throbbing head. It drew the attention of the second Zabrak sitting in the front cabin. Savage Oppress turned his head and smirked down at him. Obi-Wan met his narrowed, menacing eyes with a glare of his own, but wasn't surprised when Savage simply turned and faced forward again.

He wasn't exactly a threat at the moment, sans lightsaber and lying prone in the back of a speeder. His ribs ached and he was certain he had a concussion from being ejected from the spinning and dying Twilight.

And even if he had been uninjured, there was still _her_ to think about. Obi-Wan looked down at Satine, her limp hair tossed about and her face tense even in unconsciousness. He'd left her before, nearly two decades ago. He wouldn't leave her now. The trunk was small, too short to sit up in, but Obi-Wan scooted himself closer and took her hand in his.

The speeder vibrations signaled that the vehicle was slowing. They must have been getting near the palace. Any moment, they'd be dragged away, and try as he might, Obi-Wan couldn't think of how this could end well. He wouldn't go down without a fight, but they were both injured, Maul and his Death Watch supporters were everywhere, and now they had no ship in which to escape. The futility of the situation bore down on Obi-Wan, and he struggled to breathe.

_I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me._

Satine's fingers twitched, and he reached out with his mind to touch hers, guiding her gently back into consciousness. He thought he saw a glimmer of a peaceful smile on her face before her eyes finally opened. Even in the semi-darkness, he could see they were glassy and unfocused.

"Obi?" she whispered in obvious confusion.

"I'm here."

But like him, the memories descended on her in full-force. Her face screwed up in despair. "No."

"Satine, I'm here."

She whimpered. "No!"

That only seemed to make it worse. Because he _was_ here. And now he realized, that had been the plan all along. It wasn't Pre Vizsla who was in charge. It was _Maul_ that had drawn him here to Mandalore, _Maul_ who had known that he would come. This wasn't political. It was personal. And that was so much worse.

Through the Force, he felt Satine's anxiety spike. He inched closer and pressed his forehead to hers, brushing her hair away from her face. A lifetime ago, she had explained the intimacy of what Mandalorians called Keldabe kisses. When Obi-Wan's conscience had vexed him about the lines they were crossing in relation to the Jedi Code, they had simply sat like this— _being_ together—and it somehow had meant so much more.

Now he breathed deeply, trying to calm both of them. He sent waves of peace over her through the Force, and felt her breathing even out.

"I'm here," he whispered again, willing her to take it as a comfort and not a curse.

She squeezed his hand in response.

The speeder slowed further, and then stopped, coming to dock on some landing platform, the one presumably in front of the palace. The vehicle rocked slightly as the two Zabraks disembarked, but Obi-Wan focused on Satine, the softness of her skin against his, the way her fingers tangled around his own. They made no move to separate, not even as the back hatch was opened and two of the Death Watch soldiers yanked them apart and out of the vehicle.

Even the dim evening light was blinding after the darkness of the trunk, and Obi-Wan's head thrummed painfully. Through blinking eyes, he saw that Satine looked pale enough to pass out against the soldier that held her arms behind her back, but then she set her jaw and stared resolutely ahead. She met his gaze and gave him a nod, looking every bit as regal as she usually did. As if they weren't surrounded by half a dozen commandoes aiming blasters at them.

They must have held each other's gaze for a moment too long, the unspoken meaning conveyed just a little too clearly, because Maul sauntered between them and scoffed in disgusted amusement. "That's quite enough of _that_."

Obi-Wan caught his smug expression and felt his stomach churn.

"Take them inside!" Maul's voice barked as he walked away, Savage and Almec—Satine's former prime minister—at his side.

Two beefy hands grasped Obi-Wan's forearms and marched him toward the palace. Satine's palace. The palace she'd worked so hard to build after the war had destroyed the planet's surface and the original city of Sundari along with it. The palace made of transparisteel that she said would symbolize the transparency of her administration. She had vowed to drive out of the darkness of violence with as much hopeful light as she could muster. Her luminous palace had been the epitome of and the symbol of Satine's accomplishments for nearly twenty years.

But now, the great hall was as dark as the soul of the man who now stalked toward its throne. He stood on the dais, Savage and Almec on either side of him. He smirked down at Obi-Wan and Satine as the Death Watch commandos marched them before him. Satine tensed—Obi-Wan could feel her disgust—as Maul sat down on the throne. He hoisted a leg up and over one of the beskar arms, as if he could co-opt any authority the chair itself possessed.

When he spoke, his lazy voice conveyed his control over the situation. He looked at Satine. "My dear duchess, it is proving most difficult to keep you in your cell. It seems that you have a great many allies."

Satine straightened, but said nothing. Obi-Wan's heart swelled at the defiant strength in her lifted chin.

"You'll be pleased to know," Maul purred, "that your traitor sister and your bastard nephew have continued to elude capture."

"Good." She spoke plainly, but her immense relief was palpable, especially for her nephew. However, at his mention, there was a hitch in the Force that Obi-Wan didn't quite recognize the significance of.

"For now." Maul's eyes narrowed at the Duchess. "But we will find them. I suspect they can't be too far if they think they can still help you. A noble sentiment. Futile . . . but noble."

"They, however, are not truly my concern." Maul stood and glided down from the dais, his artificial legs no longer awkward and unwieldy as they had been the last time Obi-Wan had dueled him on Florrum. Now, he moved in a nearly-human way, smooth and powerful, as he had on Naboo all those years ago. He snaked his way around Obi-Wan, his soft voice a rumble in the echo of the great hall.

"Your dysfunctional family is one thing," he said, passing by Satine and coming to stand in front of them again. "A Jedi knight sworn to eschew attachments is quite another. So tell me, Obi-Wan, what tether binds you to a Mandalorian duchess that you would break centuries-old treaties in order to rescue her?"

Obi-Wan set his jaw, unwilling to confirm or deny anything. But his heart sank into the pit of his stomach. Because he knew. He _knew_.

And Maul's smirk confirmed it.

"Your silence is meaningless. There's nothing you could tell me that I don't already know."

"I very much doubt that."

Maul turned toward Satine's voice. "Would you like to put that theory to the test, Duchess?"

"Whatever my sister has told you . . ." she began, and Obi-Wan wondered again who this sister was. This sister who not only seemed to know about their past . . . but, if Satine was to be believed, was willing to use it against her own flesh and blood.

Maul cut her off. "No, no. She revealed nothing. Don't get me wrong. She did very much want you deposed, but for all your differences, your sister still remained loyal to you in that regard."

Satine blinked, clearly surprised and . . . pleased.

Maul turned to his own sibling, who was hulking on the steps of the dais. "Very admirable, is it not, Savage? The loyalty of family."

The yellow Zabrak grunted noncommittally, but Maul had already turned back to Satine.

"No, your sister remained tight-lipped, but Vizsla had his own take on your . . . intimate past."

"You cannot trust anything that liar and traitor says to be true," Satine responded.

"Perhaps, and yet"—Maul grinned and gestured toward Obi-Wan—"behold the Jedi!"

Obi-Wan wanted to be sick. He shouldn't have come.

Maul sidled close to Satine and chuckled with dark mirth. "Vizsla knew enough to know he'd come to rescue you," he said, reaching out to roll a lock of her tangled hair through his fingers. "That's all I really care about."

And then Maul's attention zeroed in on him. The red demon stepped before him, hands behind his back and looking impossibly pleased.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi." His name was a curse on Maul's lips. "Jedi extraordinaire. In every regard, the perfect servant of the Light. At least, that's how you would have the world see you. But I know better." 

Still held in place by the commandos, Maul's Sith-yellow eyes pinned him like a butterfly laid out on a slab. Just as they had on Florrum, and before that on Raydonia, and before that . . . Obi-Wan's hand twitched, instinctually reaching for his lightsaber before he remembered it was still gone. It must have been left behind at the docking bay.

"A Jedi is supposed to be divorced from anger," Maul continued. "But I remember the rage in your eyes and the wrath you dealt with your saber when you cut me down on Naboo."  
  
Obi-Wan didn't deny it.

"What does our pacifist duchess think of that?"

"You'll find even my empathy has its limits." The venom in Satine's voice surprised Obi-Wan. "You killed Qui-Gon Jinn."

Perhaps it shouldn't have. Satine had called Qui-Gon her beloved _ver'gebuir._ It was Mando'a for bodyguard, or guardian, but it literally meant "almost father," and that's what his master had become to her during their year on the run.

"You were acquainted?" Maul simpered in her direction, bowing low in mocking reverence. "A thousand pardons, your Grace. It wasn't personal. However, I assure you"—his head turned toward Obi-Wan—"this is."

"What will it take, Maul?" Obi-Wan's stomach clenched, but he willed his voice to be calm. Maul was crazed; there was no doubt about that. To provoke him in any way would be to Obi-Wan's detriment. To _Satine's_ detriment. "What will it take to convince you that this is unnecessary? That we _both_ took something from one another on that day."

Maul whirled. "No! What you took from me cannot be quantified! You failed to take my life, but you took my future, my purpose, my destiny." His voice was filled with bitterness, poorly masking long-festering pain. "My master believed me unworthy, and so he abandoned me."

"Perhaps we're more alike than you may think."

Fifteen years had failed to heal his own abiding wound.

"Don't try to empathize, Jedi," Maul said, yellow eyes narrowed. "You know nothing of what I endured. The scale was not balanced that day on Naboo. But today, it will be."

Maul grabbed Satine's tunic and wrenched her forward. She gasped in shock and Obi-Wan instinctively moved toward her only to be held back by the commandos. Maul dragged her up the dais. Almec moved down the steps to make room for them. He seemed to be making to leave the throne room entirely, but Maul barked at him.

"Almec, you will remain!" Maul pushed Satine to her knees, and Almec slowly turned to face the off-worlder he'd chosen to serve. "This will be a momentous event in your planet's history."

Satine stared at her former prime minister. Almec refused to meet her eyes, but his steely face could not hide his apprehension. Still, he marched back, taking his place on the dais next to where his former duchess now knelt.

In the dimness of the great hall, a ray of light still shown past the throne. It caught Satine's hair and the tears that trailed silently down her face. Obi-Wan's heart broke for her—now bent beside her throne, the city she built invaded, the people she loved tortured and oppressed.

All because of the demon who stood over her.

The demon he'd failed to kill.

Obi-Wan's lip curled, the anger swelling in his gut before he could mask it.

And then Maul's eyes were on him.

"Ahh, there it is," the Zabrak chuckled. _He_ made no move to mask his satisfaction. "There's the fire I remember."

Obi-Wan shifted his weight side to side, the tension in his legs urging him forward. If only he had a weapon.

Maul noticed and cocked his head in mock disapproval. "Careful, Jedi. What would your master think?"

Obi-Wan didn't care. He clenched his fists.

"You want a fight." Maul stepped down the dais toward him once more. "Perhaps, I can oblige."

He stopped several paces from Obi-Wan and held out a blocky lightsaber hilt in his hand. He ignited it, and the crackling whistle of the ancient sword echoed through the room.

Satine gasped. Her eyes and Almec's were on the weapon's impossibly dark blade.

Maul turned the beskar hilt over in his hands. "You know this weapon?"

Obi-Wan did. He'd learned about it as a child in his history classes. He'd fought it once. He thought he preferred it in the hands of Pre Vizsla. "The Darksaber."

"The _Dark_ saber," Maul repeated. "The blade of a Mandalorian Jedi. For arch enemies, Mandalorians and Jedi have certainly always been"—he quirked a knowing eyebrow at Obi-Wan—"intertwined."

Obi-Wan stared resolutely back at Maul, letting the double entendre slide off him. He'd spent years coming to terms with what exactly the Jedi Code allowed for. He wasn't going allow a Sith—a former Sith—to make him feel guilty again. But Maul didn't seem to care.

"Deliciously appropriate, is it not?" He turned the saber over in his hands again. Weighing it; hefting it.

"Metaphorical balance between the Dark and the Light," he purred. "Just what we need to balance the scale."

He retracted the blade and held the hilt out to Obi-Wan.

It felt like a trap.

"Take it."

Definitely a trap.

"If it's all the same," he quipped. "I'd rather have my own."

"Unnecessary," Maul said. "You see, it only took one fell swoop for you to deliver my fate the last time." He pantomimed the move that had cut him in half. "You deserve the chance to do it again."

Obi-Wan's eyes darted from the beskar hilt to Maul's amused expression. "I don't understand."

"Why am I not surprised?" The Sith rolled his eyes. "You never have been too bright, have you, Kenobi? But that's the Jedi for you. You learned to follow the rules. Swing your sword. Seek the will of the Force. The Jedi never have been keen on . . . independent thinking."

Obi-Wan said nothing. This was nothing new. There would always be people—many people—who would criticize the Jedi for their methods. For impressing upon young children a specific value system. As if that weren't true for every child everywhere. The criticisms did not take into consideration that those children were taught to know the truth of the Force. That they were raised in intimate community and given purpose and were prepared to serve others. The Order wasn't perfect—Obi-Wan knew that—but he had no regrets for the direction of his life.

Well—he looked at Satine—almost no regrets.

"But perhaps there's hope for you yet, Kenobi," Maul continued. "'The perfect Jedi' and yet . . . here you are. Your masters don't know, do they? That you've defied them. Ignored their council. Disregarded their authority and all they stand for. Strike one."

Obi-Wan's eye twitched.

"And wait until they realize why! That their 'perfect Jedi' has broken the fundamental rule of his Order and attached himself to another. Strike two. You aren't as pure and noble as you want everyone to think." Maul rubbed his chin, as if a thought were occurring to him. "And perhaps it was all rooted in that moment you struck me down on Naboo. You touched the Dark side then, didn't you, Obi-Wan?"

The terror of that day flooded back. The utter helplessness of hanging precariously over a bottomless shaft. The fear of knowing that Qui-Gon lay dying and he may already have been too late to say goodbye. The realization that the slow and patient methods of the Jedi would not help him. The decision to act anyway.

He had balled his rage toward the Zabrak standing above him. He had called upon the Force to bend to his will, to carry him out of the pit and strike the beast who had killed his master. And he had felt the hatred in his heart mix with the gloriously euphoric feeling of justice rendered.

"How could you not have touched it?" Maul crooned. "Your anger was palpable. You long to do it again. Perhaps the time is now."

That Maul was right surprised no one more than Obi-Wan. But anticipation swirled inside him. Why did he wish to do it again? He was a Jedi. He had nothing to prove.

And yet.

He remembered the surreptitious glances of the Council, their eyes darting back and forth to one another. They had affirmed his actions on Naboo—there had been no other way—but they had looked at him with a wariness that made Obi-Wan feel like he'd done something very wrong. They had cancelled his Trials, telling him that he had already proven himself. Later, however, Obi-Wan had wondered if their attention had been so diverted to dealing with the return of the Sith that they simply hadn't wanted to spend any more time on him.

The feeling of inadequacy—his constant companion since childhood—had left him feeling empty. And like it had then, that void had filled with anger. At his master's rejection, then at his absence. At the Council who looked at him like an inconvenience to be shuttled to the side. At the temptation to simply get into a speeder and fly to Mandalore, to find the only other person who loved Qui-Gon like he had.

And then the nagging thought that to do so would be to give into the very temptation that led to the Dark side. That perhaps he already _was_ tainted. Corrupted. Impure.

And so he had shoved the desire for _her_ out of his mind. He had focused on Anakin's training. He had doubled his time spent in meditation. And for months, he had ignored the blinking light on his holocom that signaled a message from Sundari until, in a moment of exasperation, he had physically crushed the device in his hands.

He was a Jedi. He wanted to be the best Jedi. He had proven himself worthy. He had.

And yet.

The demon was in front of him, whole once again, still holding the Mandalorian lightsaber out to him.

"Take the sword."

Obi-Wan could still not discern Maul's intent. He couldn't simply be offering a chance to kill him again. Was he that tortured and desperate for oblivion that he came willingly to Obi-Wan to finish the job? If so, then what was all this for? Why betray Vizsla? Why terrorize Sundari? Why lure him here using Satine to bait him?

Obi-Wan snapped, not wanting to find out. "Whatever you're planning, Maul, have at it, and be done with it. I've had enough of your games."

"You won't get me to kill you that easily, Kenobi. In fact, that's not my intention." Maul said with a chuckle. "But you are right. This is a game, and there's more fun to be had."

In a sing-song voice, Maul warbled, "The game is this: the players are three. Balance the scales and two shall be free."

He turned back to his brother. "Isn't that good, Savage?"

Savage gave another grunt, but Obi-Wan could sense his puzzlement.

"You see, Kenobi. One of us will not be leaving this room today. You decide who that will be. You will kill me"—he pointed behind him—"or I will kill her."

No.

"Brother." Savage's distress was immediate. Maul silenced him with a raised hand. Obi-Wan's mind seized in shock. Satine said nothing, but her wide eyes snapped to his.

"You're mad," Obi-Wan breathed.

"Oh, I was," Maul said in amusement. "Ten years skulking around a trash heap will do that. No. I'm thinking more clearly than I ever have. _This_ is balance."

"This is revenge."

" _That_ is the way of the Sith."

Obi-Wan knew he gaped like a fish. It was unthinkable. But Maul was deadly serious.

"Don't look so appalled, Kenobi." Maul pointed a clawed finger at him. "You are not so different. I know you desire revenge. I have seen it. My brother has as well, haven't you, brother?" He turned back, Savage still looking anxious. "You nearly gutted him after he impaled your Jedi friend the last time we met. What was her name?"

The memory drew Obi-Wan out of his shock.

"Her name was Master Adi Gallia," Obi-Wan said reverently. A friend of Qui-Gon's. She had been a strong and comforting presence to Obi-Wan as an apprentice. A good friend after that, as well.

Anger had surged in him at the animalistic fashion in which Savage killed her. He _had_ wanted to kill him. And he would have. Savage had been defenseless and prone on ground. Obi-Wan had struck wildly, his rage giving him strength he hadn't known he possessed. Maul had blocked the frenzied blow, and Obi-Wan was, ironically, thankful for him in that moment. He had touched the Dark side again that day, but Maul had saved him from lasting consequences.

"I'm giving you a chance to avenge her," Maul said. "To avenge your master. And to avenge your beloved before you lose her, too."

_If he so much as touched her . . ._

"I will defend her."

"No, no. There will be no defense," Maul said in an even voice. "No duel to save the princess from the krayt dragon. Because, you see, I will not fight you. If you wish to kill me, you will do it without provocation. Today, you are not the noble knight . . . but you could be the executioner."

To kill an unarmed man while white-hot rage flowed through his veins . . .

"Take what you what. Or watch your duchess die."

It was not the Jedi way. And yet . . .

"Don't do it, Obi-Wan."

Satine's voice penetrated Obi-Wan's racing mind. Maul's head swiveled in her direction. "You must have hit your head when you fell from that decrepit ship, your Grace. I'm giving him a chance to save your life."

"At what cost?" Satine met his gaze boldly. "For him to end up like your kind?"

"What do _you_ know of my kind?"

"Mandalorians know plenty," she continued, eyes blazing. Obi-Wan's breathing quickened as Maul, still holding the Darksaber, stalked toward her. "Throughout history, my people joined the Sith against the Jedi and paid for it dearly when they were betrayed. You're without honor, without dignity, without character."

Maul growled. "Careful, Duchess."

"Why?" A laugh, huffed and desperate, ripped from Satine's throat. "What can you do to me you don't already have planned?"

"Whatever I do," Maul intoned, "you bring it on yourself. You and your weak-minded government. How does it feel, Satine? Knowing this"—he gestured grandly—"is all your fault. Your cabinet has been slaughtered, the Pykes and the Black Sun plunder as they will, and even now Sundari is burning."  
  
"No! That was you!" Satine cried indignantly, her clenched fist pounding her thigh. "You and Vizsla conspiring together to bring ruin to this city."

Maul didn't react, but his surprise was evident in the Force. He had expected Satine to cower. He was a fool to think so.

"I prepared a defense for Mandalore," she continued. "The police and my Protectors were prepared to defend Sundari. But Vizsla swayed the people and turned their hearts back to violence."

"Then perhaps you had deluded yourself that they were ever truly pacifists."

Obi-Wan grimaced. That barb was one lobbed at Satine relentlessly, but he knew it always lodged deep. Especially now, when it looked as if it were true.

"I kept Mandalore safe." Satine's voice hitched, but she continued resolutely. "I kept Mandalore out of the Republic's wretched war, and it was at my _people's_ behest."

"And in doing so, you softened them up," Maul crooned. "You took a culture of warriors and made them ripe for the plucking."

The Duchess blanched. Obi-Wan caught shame-filled eyes as she cast her gaze to the ground, and he knew she believed Maul was right. The Zabrak smirked.

"My dear, every action has a reaction," he said, his voice saccharine. "Yes, Vizsla and I worked together. He and your sister knew exactly where your weaknesses lay. But you and your pathetic leadership were the cause. We were simply the effect."

Satine's face paled even further. She swallowed hard, clearly struggling not to cry. Obi-Wan's heart ached for her, but the ache settled lower as Maul slowly circled her, up and down the dais, surrounding her as his insidious words no doubt filled her mind.

"I don't know if you're delusional, hopelessly naïve, or simply stupid when it comes to the world." Maul dipped his head very near Satine's and hissed, "The strong conquer the weak. And your world was conquered so easily, it's a wonder someone hadn't tried sooner."

Satine's head fell in dismay, her body curling in on itself, her tears falling to the floor. There had been times Obi-Wan had wished Satine had taken a more aggressive approach, but his rage burned as Maul continued to mocked her.

"Your people are dying, your Grace. Mandalore burns because of _you_."

"Enough!"

Obi-Wan called the Darksaber out of Maul's hand, and then its cold, heavy hilt was in his own.

Satine's wide blue eyes and Maul's yellow ones flew to him in shock.

Obi-Wan ignited the Darksaber before he could think, and a static charge, unique to the ancient blade, traveled over his body. The sword's high-pitched whine filled Obi-Wan's ears, broken only as Satine shrieked in dismay.

"No!"

Obi-Wan gripped the strange, unwieldy hilt in both hands. The commandos on either side of him primed their blasters; he knew they aimed directly at his neck. Savage ignited his saber, ready to defend his brother, but Maul, his expression cool once again, waved him off. The Death Watch soldiers lowered their blasters slightly.

There was a part of Obi-Wan that had wondered if Maul's proposal had been a ruse; that the Sith would have welcomed interference from his minions if Obi-Wan had lashed out. But clearly, that wasn't the case. Maul wasn't interested in winning an unfair fight. This was something still different. This was still about _them_.

Obi-Wan breathed heavily and wondered how Maul—who, by his own guidelines, should be prepared to die—could be so calm. But still, the Zabrak sauntered toward him, as composed as when he had proposed this wretched game.

"Your true nature is revealed, Master Jedi." Maul gestured toward him, and Obi-Wan shook as he realized what he was doing.

But he didn't lower the weapon.

Still Maul came closer.

 _Sithslayer_. Obi-Wan remembered hearing that word whispered by his peers and even one of the older masters. He had blocked his ears against the pain it caused. Could he embrace the epithet now?

He shifted, moving into the opening stance Qui-Gon had favored, all the better to channel his strength into a swift, killing swing.

The Sith was in front of him now, head high and eyes narrowed, close enough that Obi-Wan could deliver the same blow he had on Naboo. Maul reached forward and brazenly poked the chestplate of the beskar Obi-Wan had obtained, painted—he now realized—to show Death Watch's allegiance to him. "Perhaps red _is_ your color."

The provocation was meant to egg him on, but Obi-Wan couldn't understand. His eyes held Maul's, searching. Softly, so that he could hardly hear himself over the sound of the Darksaber, he said, "Why are you so willing to die?"

For a second, Maul's determined expression lifted, revealing pain as deep as the pit that had swallowed him all those years before. Obi-Wan wondered if Maul believed all of this was worth it. If revenge could accomplish what death itself would bring.

Then his face hardened again.

"It gives me the best return on the injustice you dealt me," he said sensibly. "Some Sith struggle to play the long game. They think only of their own gains. I don't have that problem. After all, why should I only take your life, when I can have your soul?"

He was deranged. Obi-Wan's lip curled, and though he knew it would destroy him, he wanted nothing more than to cut the Zabrak down right here and now.

His fingers tensed around the hilt. Maul lifted his arms, as if welcoming the blow.

"Ben."

As if a film had been lifted from his eyes, the spell was broken. Obi-Wan breathed and looked at the woman kneeling by the throne, the stray beam of light still illuminating her blonde hair.

"Don't do it."

But how could he not?

"Satine." His voice was a plea, though he didn't know what he was asking.

"Not for me." Her voice was more resolute than he had ever remembered.

Maul had the audacity to roll his eyes.

"You're trying my patience," he practically seethed. "Do you think you're worth so little, Duchess?"

"I know my worth."

Maul motioned to Obi-Wan. "But to him?"

She blinked, her expression uncertain, and Obi-Wan felt a rush of shame as he lowered the Darksaber. He had never told her. Why should she believe she meant something to him? She had confessed her love for him on the Coronet, and he'd responded by admitting only his past feelings. He'd never told her how he still longed for her. And that maybe, if this wretched war were over . . . but she didn't know.

"I'm not afraid to die," Satine simply said, ignoring the original question.

Maul paused, studying her.

"I believe you," he said, before pointing once more at Obi-Wan. "But _he_ is. He's the one who's afraid of that . . . His rage, fear, hatred. It unbalances him. Not very becoming of a Jedi."

Satine's shining blue eyes caught his. Without words, they spoke of their entire history. Of meeting on Coruscant and escorting her back to Mandalore, only to find danger lurking around every corner. Of months living hand-to-mouth that had forged a bond between an icy duchess and an uptight padawan that Obi-Wan had never experienced with anyone else. Of protecting her from bounty hunters and realizing that somewhere along the line she had become far more than an assignment to him. Of lying hand-in-hand under the stars, desperate for the news that the war had been won while also never wanting that day to come. Of fifteen years spent squelching down the remorse of what could have been, only to discover that she had never stopped loving him. Of the vows that he'd made to the Jedi, the Republic, and this damnable war, and how he'd never be able to offer her the vow she deserved. He couldn't offer her that, but he willed his own gaze to convey how much she still meant to him. That he wouldn't be here, risking everything, except that it felt like he had everything to lose.

Satine smiled, sad and heavy, and Obi-Wan wanted to believe she understood.

"I think he's very becoming of a Jedi," she said, her voice filled with tenderness. "Even if he needs to let go."

 _Let go_.

The tension in Obi-Wan's limbs flowed out of him. He breathed shakily, feeling as if a band had been released from around his chest.

"I admit, your Highness," Maul growled. "I wasn't expecting you to sign your own death warrant."

_Let go._

"I won't let him fall to a fate worse than death."

_You are a Jedi._

Maul could have taken that as an insult. Instead, he looked Satine straight-on and said, "You are noble to a fault, your Grace."

 _Let go_.

Obi-Wan retracted the Darksaber blade. Maul turned at the sound.

 _You have nothing to prove_.

Accepting what would come, Obi-Wan threw the ancient hilt to the side of the throne room. It skittered and screeched across the great hall and came to rest against the wall.

He spread his hands in acceptance. "You can't win, Maul," he said. "Not like this. We won't play your game."

He looked at Satine, who gazed back in satisfaction, though her sorrowful eyes conveyed she knew the consequences.

_She knows how you feel._

_Let go._

Maul pursed his lips in annoyance, then called the Darksaber back to himself. It slapped soundly into the palm of his hand. His fingers curled around the hilt so tightly Obi-Wan thought it would break if it hadn't been made of beskar.

The Sith marched toward Satine's throne. He perched on the seat, clearly on edge. Clearly hungering for a change in the status quo.

"We've found something out today," he seethed, casting a glance between the two of them. "You truly are meant for one another. It's sickening. But sooner or later, Jedi Code or no, the end would have been the same. It could never have lasted. Do you want to know why, Obi-Wan?"

Satine stared at him sullenly. Obi-Wan's stomach clenched again.

"Your noble flaw is a weakness shared by you"—he motioned toward Satine—"and your duchess."

Satine gasped as she was raised into the air, Maul's invisible fingers grasping her throat.

"You should have chosen the Dark side, Master Jedi."

Even now, his decision made, Obi-Wan's mind raced. Would it have made any difference?

"Your emotions betray you."

He couldn't deny them. He didn't want to. They were a part of him. And they were a part of her.

"Your fear . . . and yes, your anger."

He wouldn't deny those either. They came from witnessing injustice.

"Let your anger deepen your hatred."

He breathed. Hatred was a tool that would wound the one that carried it.

"Don't listen to him, Obi."

"Quiet," Savage growled.

But her voice rang clear in his head.

 _Let go_.

"You can kill me. But you will never destroy me."

The premise of Maul's game was faulty.

"It takes strength to resist the Dark side."

She gave him strength.

"Only the weak embrace it."  
  
"It is more powerful than you know."

No, he had touched the Dark. He did know its power. The all-consuming desire to take what he wanted. Revenge for his pain. For Master Gallia. For Qui-Gon. For _her_.

"And those who oppose it are more powerful than you'll ever be."

Satine was the best of them. Utterly self-sacrificing. A perfect servant of the Light. Stronger than he ever could hope.

Maul growled, anger failing to hide his pain, and Obi-Wan was reminded that there were more than two victims in this situation.

Satine had once told him that even extremists could be reasoned with. He owed it to her to try.  
  
"I know where you're from," He said, his voice imbued with sympathy. "I've been to your village. I know the decision to join the Dark side wasn't yours. The Nightsisters made it for you—"

"Silence!"

The Zabrak wasn't looking for understanding. Anger was easier. That was the pull of the Dark side.

"You think you know me? It was I who languished for years thinking of nothing but you. Nothing but this moment. And now, the perfect tool for my vengeance is in front of us."

Pain bred pain. Unless someone put a stop to it, it would never end.

"I never planned on killing you. But I will make you share my pain, Kenobi."

He knew what was coming, but Obi-Wan moved toward her anyway. The commandos knocked him down. He reached for her.

Maul ignited the Darksaber. He drew Satine forward. She reached for Obi-Wan.

The gulf between them was immense.

She gasped in shock and pain. Obi-Wan's heart stopped. He was vaguely aware of Maul, grinning sadistically, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Nothing mattered but her.

He surged forward as Maul retracted the saber and allowed the duchess to fall to the floor.

"Satine," he breathed.

He turned her over gently, _gently_ , knowing that it wouldn't make any difference. She whimpered.

He forced himself to look down, where the gaping hole in her abdomen signaled this was no dream.

Her glassy, unfocused eyes stared in shock until they came to rest on his. His throat tight, he found he could say nothing, nor would any words feel sufficient for what he had failed to tell her over the years. But words didn't fail her. They never had.

"Remember, my dear Obi-Wan," she whispered. She lifted her hand to cup his cheek, and he leaned into her comforting touch. "I've loved you always. I always will."

Her hand fell to the floor and Obi-Wan's heart along with it. Her eyes closed. He felt her essence escape into the Force, and then she was gone.

Obi-Wan breathed heavily, tears filling his eyes. Overcome, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it reverently, intimately.

And through the pain, though his heart had felt like shards in his chest, Obi-Wan's lips quirked in the barest hint of a smile. Of all the ways Maul had anticipated this ending, this was not the one he had wanted. The one where she had saved him. The one where _she_ had won.

He pressed his forehead to hers, imagining he could feel her breath on his cheeks once more.

Behind him he could hear Savage ask Maul some question. But he didn't hear. He knew they'd pull him away. He laid Satine's body down on the cold, stone floor. He crossed her hands over the wound and brushed her hair away from her face. She finally looked peaceful once again, as noble in death as she had been in life.

"Always," he whispered, a blessing and a curse and a promise all rolled into one. There were just some things he'd never be able to completely let go.


End file.
